


Dinner Dates

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Awkward Dates, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 09:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17826356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: Jacqueline's attempt at a romantic dinner with Rinko goes somewhat awry.





	Dinner Dates

_A knock at the door . . ._

Jacqueline squealed and clapped her hands. The wooden spoon fell with a clatter into the simmering bowl, which let loose a sweet aroma into the air, and – as she spun around – her long locks of red hair danced out behind her, while she hummed a low tune. A dark blush coloured her cheeks, while her green eyes sparkled in the candlelight. The classical music drifted through the kitchen. Jacqueline swallowed hard, as she danced through the hallway.

The skirts of her dress billowed out behind her, while the slit to the hip revealed long and slender legs, and she paused at the door to adjust the corset-styled top. Jacqueline pulled her hair over one shoulder, letting it drape over her ample chest, and she blushed again to realise how it drew attention and complemented her hourglass frame. A scent of perfume wafted from her neck and wrists, as she snatched at the bouquet of flowers from beside the front door, and flung it wide open to reveal Rinko standing in a summer outfit.

Rinko waved, although her gaze was aimed low. They stood in awkward silence, as they covertly allowed their eyes to wander each other’s bodies, and yet each would look quickly away any time the other caught their gaze, with muttered apologies and stuttered excuses. It took a few seconds for Jacqueline to work up the courage to step aside, so that Rinko could jump through the doorway and lick at her lips with a shuddered sigh. Rinko asked:

“Are those for me?”

“I struggled to find something as beautiful as you,” chirped Jacqueline. “Ikemen said that jewellery was too inappropriate this early on, and Mantaro suggested lingerie . . . enough said on that one, right? I was shopping for a new dress when I came across a small florist, and – well – I saw these roses from Planet Kinniku and I simply had to get them!”

“They’re gorgeous, Jacqui,” replied Rinko. “I just wish I’d gotten you something now. I mean you look . . . well . . . freaking _amazing_. Is that something cooking, too? If I’d have known this would be all formal, I promise I’d have dressed up for the occasion.”

“I just hope you like Western food. I’d hate for you to not like it!”

“I’m sure I’ll love it, Jacqui. Don’t worry.”

Rinko took the flowers into her arms. The smile that broke across her face brought lines to the corners of her eyes, while her cheeks grew impossibly dark, and she finally closed her eyes, as she leaned on tiptoe to press a chaste kiss to waiting lips, only to quickly pull back with a hurried excuse. Jacqueline giggled, before kissing her back. This time their lips lingered, as they shared in a long breath, and they pulled slowly away with smiles. A smudge of lipstick remained on Rinko’s skin, as she panted for breath and rapidly blinked.

“Okay,” said Rinko. “That was . . . _wow_.”

A high-pitched giggle was the only response. Jacqueline took her free hand, running fingers over soft and supple skin, and pulled her towards the kitchen, before taking the flowers to place within a crystal vase centre of the set table. The pot on the stove bubbled away, as she raced towards it with high-heels clacking against the tiled floor. Jacqueline frowned. The mixture was thick and stodgy, with a pale white hue. Jacqueline called in a weak voice:

“Do you like bolognese? It’s Ikemen’s recipe!”

Rinko hummed, as she walked over to the marble countertops. The close proximity made Jacqueline tense, while her heart raced and a nervous sweat broke over her skin, and – as her mouth watered – she tried to keep her eyes from how the pose emphasised Rinko’s chest. A few seconds past without much in the way of an answer, until Rinko looked into the pot, and at once her brow furrowed and her left eyes twitched. Rinko half-smiled as she asked:

“Are you sure you cooked that right?”

“I thought so,” said Jacqueline. “I – ah – may have cheated just a bit? Ikemen swore to me that it just needed to be heated thoroughly, but it was all otherwise cooked. Do you think I need to add something to make it red? I have some ketchup or some chilli sauce?”

“No, definitely do _not_ add either of those things, Jacqui!”

“Then how do I make it go red?”

Rinko opened her mouth, but her words were soon cut dead. A heavy thud echoed out from the hallway, somewhere close to the stairs . . . it sounded again . . . again . . . it was a slow and repetitive sound, as it came closer and closer. Rinko pointed towards the open doorway, half-curious and yet sceptical, but the dicing knife was already in Jacqueline’s hand, as she gripped hard enough that her knuckles turned white, and Rinko asked:

“I thought we were alone tonight?”

The racing of her heart was all she could hear, as Jacqueline slowly put out her free hand for Rinko to get behind her. The sound stopped at the base of the stairwell. Jacqueline raised the knife and slowly walked towards the open door, while a pounding pain struck at the side of her temples, and she trembled with every step she took . . . _Ikemen was at work, Harabote was on vacation . . ._ they paused right in the doorway, hunched over and still.

A dark figure appeared before them.

Rinko screamed, as she saw the exaggerated and pronounced features. The red accessory on the chin looked menacing in the low light, while the blond locks of hair were far from natural, and the fabric of the clothing was garish and bright, enough that Jacqueline winced. Rinko was already behind her with manicured hands digging into her dress, as she buried her face into the small of her back and crouched low, but Jacqueline simply sighed.

The knife dropped from her hand. Jacqueline raised both in mock surrender, as she stepped awkwardly aside to allow Ikemen entry, and Rinko – slowly peeking out – did a quick double-take and burst out into a series of apologies. Ikemen blinked. He was out of place in his striped pyjamas, while his rough hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa, and Jacqueline giggled as she remembered their childhood, as he remained timeless and ageless. Ikemen spotted the knife on the floor and opened his mouth, but Jacqueline shot out:

“I thought you were going out, Brother?”

“Well, I thought I’d have an early night tonight,” said Ikemen. “I just came down to check on the food, because I think I may have added too much oregano, but – . . . this may be a silly question, Sister, but were you – ah – planning on stabbing me?”

“We thought you were a burglar,” said Rinko.

“You gave us a fright,” added Jacqueline.

Ikemen sighed, as he waved a hand and shook his head. He lowered his head and walked towards the sink, where he dropped his mug ready to be washed later, and quickly ran water over his hands, before he darted towards the pots on the stove. The bolognese was still simmering, when Jacqueline ran to his side and pressed her hands together in gesture of a mock prayer. He said nothing. There was no attempt at stirring or taste-testing, but he simply turned and stared at her with his eyes wide and intimidating, as she choked out:

“Oh, er, did you follow the recipe correctly?”

“I should think so.” Ikemen sighed and shook his head. “I believe this is two-thirds a cup of oats, with half-a-cup of hot water, and a blended apple core with two tablespoons of yoghurt and two tablespoons of honey. Oh, and one egg white! Yes, I do believe you were heating up my homemade facial mask. It’s full of antioxidants to slow down the aging process!”

“Is it even edible?” Rinko asked.

“Well, technically.” Ikemen winced as Rinko dipped in a finger for a taste. “I certainly wouldn’t recommend it for a romantic main course, though. Look, why don’t you two sit down and talk about . . . whatever it is you talk about. I’m sure I can whip up a bread basket and some fresh dips, which will serve as a nice starter until the main course warms.”

“Really? Because – you know – the facial mask doesn’t taste that bad.”

“It’s better than what I could cook,” added Jacqueline.

Ikemen pinched the bridge of his nose. A hand rested on his hip, as he lowered his head and furrowed his brow, and Jacqueline held back laughter, as she knew that his pride would demand that he allow something better than sweetened oats to be eaten. He was already snatching the correct pot to simmer, while opening several recipe books for desserts whose names she struggled to pronounce,  but – as she leaned over to try a lick of the facial mask – he slapped away her hand and pointed to the table set for two with a firm gesture.

“Out of my kitchen,” ordered Ikemen. “Out. Out!”

Jacqueline giggled and snatched at the wine, while Rinko settled into a seat and pulled a rose towards her to catch the aroma, and – seeing the serene and graceful expression – Jacqueline blinked back tears and paused to memorise every aspect of the scene. Rinko jerked to realise she was being watched, but softened at once when Jacqueline drifted into her vision. A soft hand took Jacqueline by the hand and pulled her low, as she delivered a soft kiss to her cheek and another to her jaw and a final one to her neck. Jacqueline swayed with a sigh.

“You may be the world’s worst cook,” teased Rinko, “but I love you”

A tear fell from Jacqueline’s cheek. The wine bottle was quickly shoved onto the table, very nearly spilling as Jacqueline dropped low and threw her arms around Rinko, and she held so tight onto her that she feared she might cause harm, but Rinko simply laughed and held her back. The kisses returned. They were fast and quick and covered every inch of skin, until Ikemen coughed from the kitchen and they separated with pants and giggles.

“I love you, too,” swore Jacqueline.


End file.
